


Extra

by vina_writes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Banter, Editor Draco Malfoy, Fashionista Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Journalism, M/M, Witch Weekly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vina_writes/pseuds/vina_writes
Summary: Harry’s had several years undisturbed by the press. Trust Draco Malfoy to ruin his winning streak.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 137





	Extra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peachpety](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachpety/gifts).



> Because the world always deserves more designer Draco.  
> And thank you a millions times over to my wonderful beta [Phe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenomenalAsterisk)!!

Harry finds him behind an obnoxious glass desk on the top floor of an equally obnoxious glass building. There is an array of succulents spread on the left edge of the desk and a silver MacBook rests on the right. The center is crystal clear in every sense of the word, offering a view of leather-clad legs, and Harry briefly entertains the idea of smashing that ostentatious desk cleanly in half.

“Auror Potter,” Malfoy purrs. “What brings law enforcement to my reputable establishment?”

Reputable is a stretch. Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson have single handedly torn the tabloid industry to shreds and sculpted it into a beast of fashion-driven scandal. The press is their battlefield and _Witch Weekly_ their machine of war. They’re both as terrifying as they are attractive (in Malfoy’s case at least; Harry’s not sure what the world sees in Parkinson apart from the devil herself, but Hermione seems to like her well enough). Harry’s seen the editor of the _Daily Prophet_ cry after a quarterly meeting with both of them.

That was before the _Prophet_ went out of business, of course. _Witch Weekly_ posted a notice in their honorary obituaries.

“I’m not on duty,” Harry snaps.

Malfoy gives him a slow once-over. “That’s an awful lot of shiny buckles for a casual visit.” He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His mouth is painted cherry red today, and Harry tries not to think about smudging the rouge with his thumb (or his teeth).

Malfoy’s distracting him— all part of his dastardly plans for Harry’s early demise, no doubt— but it only serves to remind Harry why he’s there. He slaps that week’s issue of the magazine on the empty expanse of glass.

“Page four,” Harry growls. “What. The. Fuck?”

“Oh, no, should it have gone closer to the middle?” Malfoy looks suitably concerned as he leans forward, but his words aren’t making an awful lot of sense. “I wanted it to be a font-and-center spread, but Pansy thought it would look nice near the beginning.”

“What are you on about, Malfoy?”

It’s Malfoy’s turn to look confused. His lipstick gleams at the twist of his pout. “Your sensational debut, of course.”

He’s acting entirely serious, and Harry has to take a deep breath to keep from ripping something—namely, the paper staring up at him.

“What are you on about?”

“What are _you_ on about?”

At that moment Harry wonders if he’s been hit by a particularly strong Confundus. He frowns and leans on the desk to leaf through the magazine, but— no, the article is definitely still there in all of its sleazy glory. He looks up at Malfoy. Looks down at the article. Shoves it across the desk.

Malfoy just shrugs and gestures vaguely. It makes his button up (which looks more like a button _down_ at the moment) slip off one creamy shoulder.

“Are we seeing the same story right now?” Harry asks. He’s really not getting the reaction he wants— from himself or from Malfoy— and he just needs to be sure.

“ _The Savior and the Saved_ , yes,” Malfoy says far too calmly. “Harry Potter’s star-crossed romance, so on and so forth. Dashing title, isn’t it?”

Harry’s aware his mouth may be open.

“You don’t have a problem with this?”

“Well, I approved the publication, so I’d imagine the answer is ‘no’.”

Well. That certainly puts Malfoy’s precious little table in danger. Harry’s enjoyed several delightfully press-free years, courtesy of his acquaintanceship with both Parkinson and several esteemed attorneys. Malfoy having the sheer gall to ruin his hard-won peace makes him public enemy number one in Harry’s opinion.

“I’m going to have my lawyers riding your arse so hard, you won’t be able to sit for a week,” Harry says.

“Ride it yourself, you coward.”

Harry sputters. He points a threatening finger at Malfoy’s patrician nose and shakes it a bit, but he’s really not sure what to say. All he knows is he’s done with the emotional whiplash of these nonsensical replies.

“Get that fucking rag recalled and take the article _out_.”

Malfoy jumps to his feet, and Harry congratulates himself on finally getting a reaction out of him. “I’ll thank you not to call my business a rag,” he snaps. “And I shan’t take anything out. It’s none of your business what I print anyways.”

“It’s the definition of my business!” Harry says vehemently. “You— you printed magishopped photos of us sucking face!” That’s really the only way to put it— there absolutely was tongue (Harry’s still not sure whose).

Malfoy looks thunderous, and maybe a bit hurt, which Harry really doesn’t understand. It’s not like _he’s_ the one harbouring a pitiful fancy for Harry.

“I thought you’d appreciate the effort. The public reaction is over and done with.” There’s a bit of smugness mixed in with everything else on his face, but there’s always a bit of smugness when it comes to Draco Malfoy. “See? I was _helping_.”

“How does this help anyone?” Harry practically yells.

“I was being proactive!” Malfoy yells back.

“For what?!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Potter!” And Harry’s too surprised at Malfoy’s use of Muggle jargon to dodge the magazine he smacks him over the head with. “I’m asking you out, you daft wanker!”

Oh.

Harry’s too shocked to say much of anything then, and Malfoy takes the opportunity to hit him again.

“Oh,” Harry finally says. “Suppose that’s alright.” Malfoy’s still frowning, but he sets the magazine down at least. It occurs to Harry that he may have hurt Malfoy’s feelings, and that makes him feel rather terrible. “I mean, I’d like that. To go out. I like _you_. Er, in case you couldn’t tell, that is.”

Malfoy huffs, but his ears are pink. “Funny way of showing it, storming in here, colors blazing.”

Harry grins at him sheepishly. He’s starting to feel giddy, which is a staggering turn from his previous irritation. Malfoy looks like he’s trying not to smile back. The lines of his lipstick give him away, and Harry again finds himself wanting to muss him up a little.

It occurs to him then that he probably can, so with equal hesitancy and excitement, Harry reaches across the desk between them to cup Malfoy’s chin. He swipes his thumb across the corner of that smiling mouth and drags it across his cheek. Harry watches the red bloom against Malfoy’s pale skin, and it ignites such a dizzying level of delight in him that he worries Malfoy may never look put-together in his presence again.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Harry asks. He’s not sure where to go from here, but he knows he’d love to have dinner with Malfoy, so it seems like a good place to start.

Malfoy hums and runs a finger down the collar of Harry’s uniform. He wraps Harry’s tie around his fist.

“That would be acceptable.”

“Tonight?”

Malfoy rolls his eyes and pulls Harry in across the wide expanse of his desk to kiss him.

_Oh._

A good place to start, indeed. And when he climbs over the glass so Harry can clutch him closer, it gets even better.


End file.
